The Next Generation
by Crimm
Summary: A short story based on a weird dream I had. Three spartansintraining try to escape their facility, hoping to find some greater purpose. Rated Teen for, well, because I didn't really know what to rate it. XD
1. A quick word before the story

This is based on a bizarre dream I had, and I'm not planning on developing it. I filled it in with some creativity :D. It doesn't quite fit in with the Haloverse, but I did my best.

Like I said, weird dream. Had it the same night I had a dream about zombies in Western Vietnam. So, enjoy my quick little story about Halo.

Fenn


	2. A Brave Attempt

There were three of us, standing in the dusty aboveground entrance. Me, fair-skinned with dark hair and blue eyes. Mackenzie, dark-skinned, with dark hair and brown eyes. Todd, pasty-white with orange hair and green eyes. We were all about the same height, at about five feet and ten inches tall. We were all sixteen. We were dressed the same. Black hoodies, black pants, and black running sneakers. We communicated through slight, nearly imperceptible hand gestures and movements. We only spoke at night, when we were back in our rooms, and the doctors weren't around.

We were rarely brought aboveground. When we were, there were men in suits who looked at us. They talked to the doctors, looked at files, and then watched videos of our performance. We would stand at attention, for as long as we were told.

We had a plan, to escape. We talked about it once, when the marine in the hallway fell asleep. From then on, we had to talk about it using our hand signals. They aren't standard military signals. We came up with them on our own. It was tough, I remember. Sometimes we would confuse each other. But we quickly learned.

I was standing in the center. The men were entering now.

The doors were open.

My hand twitched, and I saw Todd and Mackenzie look at it with their peripheral vision. They both nodded imperceptibly.

We bolted.

We were fast. Amazingly fast. It felt good to run. We all ran through the men in suits. One of them, an older man, shouted. "Halsey, what is the meaning of this?"

I jumped over a piece of rubble. The entire area looked as though it had been in a battle long ago. I was heading for a high, chain link fence topped with barbed wire. Todd and Mackenzie both turned, running off in different directions. I chanced a peek behind me, and saw vehicles kicking dust into the air.

The fence was too sturdy to just run through. I jumped and grabbed onto the fence, climbing quickly.

The vehicles split. Some headed straight, towards me. The others separated, looking for Todd and Mackenzie.

I had to climb through the wire. There was pain, but we were conditioned to fight through it. I saw Todd, far down to my right. He was a black mass against the dusty red landscape. He had made it over the fence, and was sprinting forward. The vehicles tailing him had no problem driving through the fence. There was someone shooting at him through the sunroof. The rounds were most likely tranquilizers.

One must have hit him, because he faltered. He kept pushing, but his body wouldn't cooperate. I couldn't stop to watch. I looked ahead of me. There was still a huge concrete wall I had to get over.

Five stories tall. Maybe four. I looked to the right. Mackenzie was still running.

I came to the wall. The cars weren't far behind. There were enough small cracks for me to fit my fingers into. I had to work without my feet. Mackenzie had started to climb, but they shot her. She fell.

Tires slid on the dirt as they came to a stop behind me. A dart hit my shoulder and stuck. My fingers slipped but took hold and I kept climbing. One nicked my ear. Another stuck in my back. I had one more story to go.

"Christ, how much does she take?!"

There was a woman, one of the doctors. The lead doctor, I think. "Tell your men to be careful, Ackerson! I don't want her plummeting to her death!"

The tranquilizers ran their course, and I fell.

I had heard stories of the Spartan IIs. We were shown short video clips and documents with pictures. Genetically enhanced supersoldiers that were turning the tide of the war in our favor. Once I had even thought I had seen one as I was waking up. I thought it was just a vanishing dream. Supposedly there was only one left, Spartan 117.

But one was holding me in his arms, catching me. "I've got her, Doctor."

"Put her down, please."

The last thing I saw was an old woman leaning over me, and my face in the reflection of an orange visor.

My name is Jessica. I am Spartan Z66, the fourth generation of Spartans.


End file.
